


we are both an open secret

by leiascully



Series: A Thousand And One Nights [2]
Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-26
Updated: 2011-11-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 13:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/283755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karen figures it out.  Of course she does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we are both an open secret

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Trialia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trialia/gifts).



> Timeline: sometime after the 11/16 interview  
> A/N: I did no research for this story at all; I have no idea what their actual lives are like or where they might live. This story presumes that Matt and Daisy broke up, because I didn't want to deal with infidelity on top of writing RPF. It works off the premise that they are all in the same block of flats when they're filming DW, which Alex said once in an interview. Thanks to bendingwind for the readthrough. Title is from [this James Wright piece](http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/20957).  
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction that bears no resemblance to and claims no knowledge of the people about whom it is written.

Karen figures it out. Of course she does. They're all in Matt's flat, reunited in the same block even though Who won't start again for a bit, and they're drinking, because that's what they do when they're together: break out the booze and tell stories. Arthur's best at it, honestly; he can say the most ludicrous things with a straight face. Maybe it's the awful jumpers having prepared him for a lifetime of disbelieving stares. Alex gazes around at the other three sprawled over the furniture. It's sweet, really, to be so cozy with her coworkers. Alex does feel close to them, protective and affectionate as if they really are the family Pond or Team TARDIS, gallivanting through the universe together.

LA was lovely, of course, with the warmth and her beautiful daughter, but coming back to this makes London nearly as nice. She's barely unpacked and she hasn't seen Matt in what feels like an age, and she's curious what will happen later, when they're alone again. They texted a bit, of course. The four of them are always texting. But then again, there are so many things that "Thinking of you xx" fails to convey.

She's trying very hard not to have feelings about all of it; she has not been lucky in love, and she's also been in the business long enough to know how it comes and goes between actors. Team TARDIS they may be, but that doesn't mean this easy rapport will last forever. He's certainly charming, and the weeks they spent together before she left certainly felt like something real and possibly durable. She's too old to gamble with her heart. But she gets up to get some ice and fetch another bottle of something and Matt catches her eye as she comes back and he smiles and her treacherous heart squeezes with happiness anyway. She can't help smiling back, and Karen sees them.

"Aha!" she announces, pointing her bottle of perry at them in an accusatory way. "I knew it. You two have a thing going on."

"Kaz, man, you're drunk," Matt says dismissively, but he winks at Alex in reassurance and she tries to keep her cheeks from flushing like a schoolgirl and fails. She pours herself some more gin for an excuse to look at something else.

"You have," Karen insists. "I mean, the way she's opening your cabinets. Nobody walks around in somebody else's flat that way unless they've been naked in that person's flat."

"I only wanted ice and something to go on top of it," Alex protests, but oddly enough, she's happy. She didn't expect to be happy. Maybe it's the way Matt beams when he looks at her and then smooths his talented face out again to tease Karen.

"Maybe you should put some of that ice down Kaz's back," Arthur suggests. "Cool her off a bit, yeah?"

"I saw that interview!" Karen says. "You were on Craig Ferguson, and he said you'd been in Matt's bathroom touching up your makeup, and your _face_ when you tried to deny it! It's a wonder anyone believed you."

"I'm fairly certain all of us have been in Matt's bathroom," Alex points out. "This very night, even."

"Best place to touch up your makeup before work," Arthur agrees. "And a usual consequence of our activities. The toilet, I mean, not waking up next to Matt. Though I guess one activity could lead to the other, potentially. Never really thought that one through, personally."

"Well, not _my_ activities anyway," Karen says pointedly, staring at the two of them. "Can you imagine? Waking up next to that face? What's that charming American bit about gnawing your own arm off rather than waking someone the morning after? Something about hyenas? I bet it's like that. Is it? Is it just like that, Alex?"

"I wouldn't know," Alex says, pacing around the room straightening this and that, "I haven't got the teeth for gnawing."

"Oh, give over," Arthur says. "Look at the two of you. The air's disgustingly thick with contentment. Either you've each won a pile on the lottery, of which the odds are rather low, or you're getting off, either separately, which again, odds are low, because again, look at the face he's got on him, or together. Which good on you, I suppose, Alex - no one else wants to put up with him." He raises his glass to her.

"Still not quite sure what you're talking about," she deadpans.

"Seriously?" Karen says. "We're happy for you. God, you might as well be going at it, you two. Doctor Who and River Song, barely keeping it a children's show with all the flirting. Epic love on screen, epic love off screen. Destiny's having a fit. So will the fans, come to think, and the papers."

"Yeah, well, I suppose next you and Arthur will be having a snog, just to even things out, keep the headlines even," Matt says.

Arthur and Karen stare at each other for a long moment. "Nah," they both say at the same time, and everybody laughs. Matt puts out his hand, hardly even looking, and Alex takes it. He pulls her down next to him in his big comfy chair and she settles there, half in his lap, blushing absolutely to the roots of her hair, which feels like it's gone even wilder than normal with embarrassment and pleasure.

"See there, that's adorable," Karen says, punching Arthur in the shoulder. "Give us a kiss, then."

"What, you, Kaz," Matt deadpans. "Rather not, thanks. You're like my sister. Or possibly my brother."

" _Her_ , you tosser," Karen shoots back.

"Her?" Matt says, turning to look at Alex. His face changes again; there's a secretive hint of a smile playing about his lips, one that's full of memories from the last little while. "Well. That's another story altogether."

"Yes, it is," she agrees, very aware of Karen and Arthur's eyes on them. "Practically legendary." She doesn't mean to say it quite that way; that's much too big a step, but she's among friends here, and as Matt's smile broadens, she feels quite safe.

"Oh, you think so too?" he asks, delight in his eyes. "I was just thinking that myself."

"Should we leave?" Arthur asks Karen. "I think we should possibly leave."

"Not a chance," Karen says, gazing intently, at least as far as Alex can tell out of the corner of her eye. "This I've got to see."

"Well, dear," Matt says in his huskiest voice, "want to give them a little show?"

"Might as well," she breathes back. "Skeptics, all."

Their lips meet and it's perfect, warm and tender and _home_ , or near enough. Their hands brush as each of them cups the other's face. Karen whoops and Arthur whistles. Alex barely hears them, because there's Matt, dear sweet wonderful Matt, with his arms around her like she belongs in them.

"I knew it!" Karen crows. "I just knew it."

"Well done, Kaz," Matt says, but he's still looking at Alex, and there's a gleam in his eye that warms her all over. "Right for once in your life."

"Unbearable," Karen announces. "Absolutely unbearable. Better you than me, Alex. How do you put up with that idiot?"

"He makes up for it in other ways," Alex says, patting Matt's knee and shifting into a more comfortable position on his lap.

"That does not even bear thinking about," Karen tells her. "Not for a moment."

Arthur puts his arm half around Karen's head, pulling her closer. "Here, Kaz, the penguin on my jumper's got googly eyes and hypnotic powers. Gaze at that for a bit. You'll forget all about Matt ever getting his kit off."

"I'm glad it's not me who's turning your stomach," Alex says, amused.

"You're gorgeous," Karen tells her, wriggling away from Arthur. "He's a great streak of nothing. Hardly even there."

"He is a bit streaky," Arthur concedes. "Kaz. Drink more. It's the only way the pain will go away. Best case scenario: you black out and the past half-hour is a blank space in your memory."

Karen swats at him. "You're not helping either. I thought you were my ally."

"On this occasion, the bro code trumps my obligations to you," Arthur tells her. "There ought to be mandatory high fives right now, but I can't be bothered to get up."

"Sexist pig," Karen says.

"You're my bro too," Arthur protests. "Not my fault nobody wants to shag you at the moment."

Karen punches him in the shoulder. "Oi!"

Alex can't help chuckling. They're so young, but they're so much fun, and somehow they all suit each other. An unexpected little friend-family. She blesses the day they were all cast. It just feels so right when they're all together this way. Even more when she's got her arm wrapped around Matt's neck and his hand is resting on her thigh.

"Somebody'd quite like to shag _you_ ," Matt murmurs in her ear. Alex winks at him and sips at her gin. Arthur gives them the side-eye and starts in on a long rambling story about his latest round of auditions for something to do during their break. Alex has a story after that one and then Matt and Karen chime in with their own anecdotes; Karen keeps a running tally of Matt and Arthur's faults and disasters, and it's a good laugh all around. Eventually there's nothing but gin-flavoured water in Alex's glass and Karen is yawning, which sets off the rest of them.

"All right, Kaz, I think we've overstayed our welcome," Arthur says. "Time to go and read yourself a bedtime story."

"At least it's not so far again," Karen grumbles. "Better this way, living all in one block. Less far to walk."

"Fewer chances to trip over something, she means," Arthur says. "Especially for you, Matt."

"No goodnight kiss?" Karen says, peering intently at Matt and Alex as she shrugs into her jacket.

"I was planning to wait until after you were gone," Matt says. "Scarper."

"It's not as if I'm taking photos," Karen grumbles. "It's sweet, is all. The two of you all lovey-dovey. Who would have thought, eh. Fantasy becomes reality and all."

"Odds were on you and Matt, I heard," Arthur says. "Adorable thought."

"Dear God," Karen says, looking repulsed. "You're right. Let's leave them to it."

"I love you too, Kaz!" Matt calls after them. Alex chuckles.

"And then there were two," she says.

"Two's enough for me," Matt says in that quiet flirtatious voice, looking at her. He reaches up to twine his fingers carefully in her curls. His other hand moves slowly and gently over her thigh.

She wonders a bit why she's let herself get wrapped up in this. She certainly doesn't want to get married again. But it's more than a bit of fun. She's not sure what she'd do if he told her he loved her.

"Oh, dear," she murmurs, smoothing back his hair. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"Oh, nothing terrible," he says.

"Something rather too nice, I think," she says. The way he's gazing at her makes her as weak in the knees as a teenager, so it's a good thing she's already sitting down.

"One day at a time," he reminds her. "Like the _Arabian Nights_ , remember. I've got to earn tomorrow. As far as you know, I could fuck it all up in the next ten minutes."

"You could," she agrees. "But I doubt it." She leans forward and kisses him and oh, it's good. It's better than good and she _missed_ him and he does smell wonderful, like everything she's ever wanted. "Oh yes," she says when they lean back. "I doubt it very much."

"Yeah, me too," he says with a twinkle in his eye. "Don't go all spooky on me, Ms Kingston. Nobody's tying you down."

"Well, not _yet_ ," she says. "Somehow these things tend to happen. Everything's lovely and then somebody gets too serious."

He disentangles his fingers from her hair and strokes her face instead. "Believe me, sweetheart, I'm every bit as terrified of this as you are. Missing you was awful. If I'd been at the shore, I'd've kicked the waves for sloshing about between us. But the thought of rings and ceremonies and all that frankly scares the pants off me."

"That makes two of us," she says with a smile. "And I've been and done it, so I should know."

"So here we are," he says, smiling back at her. "One day at a time. I'll warn you, though, I'm a bit serious about that."

"That's all right," she tells him. "Wouldn't want to have to fight through a crowd just to get into bed."

"No crowds," he says, "no ocean between us, no friends to comment. Whatever shall we do with ourselves?"

"You can't tell me you don't have a few ideas," she says.

"I have _lots_ ," he promises.

She kisses him, slow and soft and sweet and hot. God, she loves kissing him. It's as if he puts his whole soul into it, every ounce of concentration he's got. It's something near magic, being the object of his attentions. He wraps her up in his arms and she'd sigh in contentment if she weren't so focused on the marvelous sensations that his mouth sends through her entire body. His hands roam over her and everywhere he touches, she tingles with want. With him, it's like her life is a summer day of sunshine: she feels young and free and sensual, warmed all through and blessed with possibilities and delicious inevitabilities. His jaw under her fingers is only just rough with a day's worth of stubble and she delights in every texture that his body has to offer.

"I think you and me and your ideas ought to adjourn somewhere less chairlike, more horizontal," she suggests.

"An excellent idea," he says, pulling her down for another kiss as she climbs out of his lap. She offers him her hands and helps him out of the chair, catching at his wrists and pulling him close as she walks backwards down the corridor to his bedroom. He loops his arms around her waist and guides her with his hips as she tugs his jumper over his head.

"You are wearing entirely too many clothes," she informs him.

"It is winter," he points out. "Bit chilly to do otherwise."

"We'll find ways to keep warm," she says.

They undress each other slowly on purpose, agreeing without speaking that it's better that way. She'd like to rip his clothes off and fling him into the bed, but they're adults. They can be dignified. They can pretend their passion can be managed. They can pretend that their time apart was easy, that they hardly thought of the other one an ocean and a continent away.

They lie under the duvet for a long time sharing luxuriant kisses and slow caresses. Everywhere he touches her she tingles. His hands fit perfectly around her breasts - she still marvels at that, how well their bodies meld. They're in no hurry; they've got all the time they need. His talented fingers stroke her back, her shoulders, her hips, her thighs, her clit. Oh, she loves his hands and the way they explore her. One touch and every nerve she's got is at his mercy. She touches his chest, his belly, the small of his back, the firm shaft of his cock. She's melted all through, liquid with longing for him, so she hitches her leg over his hip and he slides in, easy as breathing.

"Ah, that's nice," he says, pushing gently against her.

"Understatement," she says. God, she loves the way he fills her up. Their bodies _fit_ ; she's glad that she's tall when she's with him and he's looking into her eyes the way he is now. Everything in the world is all right when he's looking at her that way. He kisses her, deep and sweet, his tongue against hers, and his hand slides between their bodies to cup her breast. He moves almost lazily inside her, but he finds every right spot she's got. He ought to know them well enough by now - they've spent a lot of quality time in this bed in recent weeks. It's perfect; it's bliss; she wants it to last forever.

Their skins are damp now under the duvet. She strokes his back. The world has shrunk to this warm bubble of air they've made with the heat of their bodies and the heat of their affection. Summer in the middle of winter, halcyon days he's given her. She's in very deep trouble with this one, she knows. She leans into his kiss and pulls him closer until every possible inch of their skin is pressed together. And still he moves inside her, still the pleasures builds. He slides his hand from her breast and smooths it down her body until he can find her clit with his unerring fingers. She moans and he smiles against her lips.

"Missed you," he whispers, so quiet she can barely hear it over the thud of her pulse and the rush of their breath. "Missed this."

"It'll be our little secret," she promises. Everything in the room is outlined in light; just the sight of him dazzles her eyes. Her skin is filled with ecstasy, her soul too big for her body, her bones can't hold so much delight. She trembles in his arms and he soothes her, still stroking, still thrusting. She's nearly whimpering as he's kissing her, their bodies moving slightly faster but still in time.

"All right?" he gasps.

"The best," she says with an effort as the light spreads through her mind, blotting out everything but him, and then it's all just brilliance and the shine in his eyes. Her body goes tight against his. He holds her close, kissing her cheek and her neck and her earlobe as she presses her face against his shoulder. His hips rock against hers and her muscles are still clutching but all she wants is to see his face as he comes.

"All right," she says and he rocks faster, easing her onto her back, and she gladly takes his weight. She holds his hips, pressing him into her, and oh, it feels good. She's halfway back to that place of light when he gasps and half-collapses onto her, indistinct words coming from his mouth. She smiles and strokes his hair. It's a slow sweet slide back into herself, back to being two distinct bodies and not one united flesh. After a few minutes he slips out of her and rolls over, propping his face on his arm so he can look at her.

"Hello," he says.

"Hello," she says. "I think you've earned your tomorrow."

"Excellent," he says. "I was a bit worried."

She clicks her tongue at him. "With hands like that, you needn't have been."

"I hope LA appreciated you properly," he says.

"Well," she says, "yes, but not quite the same way. But look at it this way: earn enough tomorrows and we'll go to the beach together. A proper warm one, where you won't want to kick the waves. I'll bring a bucket and you can build sandcastles and be the idol of all my daughter's school friends and get a little color into that pale English skin."

"That might be nice," he says half into the pillow. "Will you wear a bikini?"

She laughs. "If you're very, very good, I might."

"Mmm," he says, clearly fading fast. She gives him a kiss and slips out of bed for a quick sip of water and a wash. When she comes back, he's curled around the place where she ought to be in the bed and she smiles to herself and eases back in under his arm. He mumbles in his sleep and spoons up against her. She relaxes into the warmth of him.

"Sweet dreams," she says to the night, and closes her eyes.


End file.
